


The Wild Wolf and the Sleeping Dragon

by Northern_Lady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crucifixion, F/M, Family Conflict, Love, Marriage, Slavery, people can change, tourney
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Lady/pseuds/Northern_Lady
Summary: Viserys escapes being killed by Khal Drogo and lives in hiding. His suffering changes him.





	1. Chapter 1

The moment he had realized the Khal meant to kill him, Viserys had run. The blood riders had laughed at his cowardice and had let him go. Viserys left the Dothraki and left his sister behind. He would have to get his crown some other way. It had been years of trying to find friends and allies alone and with nothing left to sell, Viserys had been forced to steal. He eventually stole from the wrong person and found himself in a slavers auction where no one cared what his name was or that he was a king. 

The first months of slavery had been the hardest. His face had been tattooed and he had been beaten into submission so many times that all of his work was painful and torturous. He could not accept that he, a king, should be commanded and set to menial labor as a slave. The master of the villa who owned him grew tired of Viserys rebellion and took him out to the gardens to be crucified. It was there that Viserys found humility. He made a great many promises that day. Promises to obey his master. Promises to never call himself a king again. Promises to not try to escape. Promises that he would do good work. The nails were removed and Viserys was allowed to live as a slave, an obedient slave. 

After that he had done all his work faithfully and without complaint. Internally, he hated serving wealthy men their food, and washing floors, and carrying wine trays, and all the tasks that fell to him but he did them and he did them as well as he could. In two years time, the steward of the household complained of pain in his heart one morning and by the end of the day the man was dead. Because Viserys was educated, and because he had been doing good work for nearly two years, the master gave him the position of steward. 

He was still a slave, but this was the first time he had earned something all on his own. This was not because he was a Targaryen or because his sister was ruling Mereen. This was because he had kept his promises, worked hard, and earned it. Granted, they were promises he had been forced to make but he had chosen to make them rather than die. The choice had not been a good one but it had been a choice. 

Years passed and as steward, Viserys had many responsibilities and when he carried them out well his master rewarded him with gifts of wine or clothes or books. Sometimes Viserys drank the wine or read the books but often he sold the items and put away the coins he earned in a little sack hidden in his room. He no longer held out any hope of being King in Westeros. He understood now that he had not earned it The people of Westeros would never have him anyway after what his sister had done to their capital. The coins were merely there in the case that a real chance to escape should come someday. If that happened he would flee to Bravos and buy a townhouse there and maybe find a woman to share his house with him. That was all he really wanted anymore. 

Eventually the day came. A party was being held at the villa. The master and all his guests were drunk and many of them had ingested milk of the poppy in spite of having no injuries or pain. His master was no longer aware of anything even happening in the room around him and likely would remain in that state for several hours. Viserys got his bag of coins, a few changes of clothes, and walked out of the villa. 

He found a ship to take him to Bravos, paid triple the passage as required due to his slave tattoo, and stayed below decks until the ship left port. 

Just minutes after arriving in Bravos, before he had even left the shipyard, Viserys saw the ship with the House Stark sigil on the sails. Since when did House Stark have ships? And what was one doing here? 

He watched from where he stood to see who would disembark from the ship. Several unremarkable men, sailors were the first to leave. Then there was a woman, a dark haired woman wearing a sword. 

“Lady Stark?” one of the sailors called out. “Where do you want the barrels?” 

“Put them at the end of the ramp,” she instructed. “And stop calling me Lady Stark. It’s Arya. You know that.” 

So this was Ned Stark’s daughter. She captained her own ship and apparently had goods to trade. All these men respected her and did her bidding as they would do for any Lord. Arya Stark was lovely and she was fascinating. Viserys wondered for a moment if this was how his brother Rhaegar had felt the first time he met Lyanna. She came down the ramp of the ship followed by her crew and looked as regal as any lady in a gown ever did. He realized with a moment of panic that she was headed in his direction. Maybe he should leave before she saw him. He still hadn’t found a means of covering his slave tattoo and he didn’t want her to see him like this. Then she made eye contact and all hope of hiding was done away with. Arya Stark walked straight over to him and stopped a few feet away. 

“Who in seven hells are you?” she asked, somehow irritated. 

“My name is Vis,” he said. It was the name his master had called him and the one he had come to accept. 

“And what are you looking at, Vis?” she said, still angry. 

“Beauty,” he said simply and worried for a moment that she might slap him or skewer him with that sword she carried. 

She did neither one. Instead she just looked confused. Then she rolled her eyes. “I saw you get off that ship from Volantis. You have a slavers tattoo. If you’re looking for work, flattery isn’t necessary. One of my men requested to stay here. There’s a spot available on my crew if you want it.” 

“I want it,” he said without hesitation. He had enough coins in his bag of things to finally have the easy life of freedom he had been hoping for all these years and this woman came along and negated all of that. He would join her crew. He wasn’t afraid of work. Not anymore. He was only afraid of disappointing her. “Where can I begin?” 

“Put your things below deck and help Yoren and Mikken with the barrels,” she told him. 

“As you wish my lady,” he said. 

She caught his arm as he moved to leave her side. “Not my lady. Just call me Arya.” 

Viserys nodded and he set off to help the rest of the crew.


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s in the barrels?” Vis asked the man called Yoren as he helped his new ship mates stack the barrels. 

“It’s called Whyskey. Lady Arya wanted to explore new lands and she found them and then she found that the people in these new lands have drinks unlike any wine or ale you have ever tasted,” Yoren explained proudly. “She made maps of our journey around the new continent but we had to stop and resupply and that’s when we found out about this.” Yoren patted the barrel proudly. 

“You didn’t return to Westeros first?” Vis wondered aloud. 

“Oh we did. They didn’t like this drink so much in Dorne, so we came here.” Yoren explained. 

They finished stacking up the barrels and a cart arrived with men from Bravos who loaded them into the cart. 

“We can go have a drink now or see the brothels or just go shoot a game of dice now,” Mikken said, “Arya gives us a night ashore before we set sail again. Sometimes two.” 

“How generous of her,” Vis said dryly. He had never cared before about how lords and ladies treated their servants. He had even told Ser Jorah once that if he were king he would be fine with slavery. Now though, he did care, and he wondered if a day ashore was really fair for this crew. 

“Well we have a day of rest every week,” Yoren told him. “And the pay is good too. You’ll like her. She has to be better than slavery right?” 

“I’m sure she will be,” he agreed. 

Viserys soon found himself sitting in an alehouse with the two young men from the Stark ship. They treated him as an equal which was somehow very strange. As a youth he had thought himself a king and tried to command respect but he knew now that he had only arrogantly demanded it. Then as a slave he had been in a class below the people around him and had learned to take orders from them. When he was eventually made steward the other slaves feared him in much the same way they feared the master and he had disliked being feared. He had disliked it because every time he looked at the scars on his hands from the day he had been taken out to be crucified, every time he looked at them he remembered what it was to know fear. He did not want to bring that fear to someone else. Not anymore. Yet these members of his crew neither feared him nor respected him nor looked down on him. They treated him almost like a friend. 

He very nearly chose a woman from the brothel that night but changed his mind as he knew now that sometimes women in brothels were not always there willingly. Instead he paid for a meal and a soft bed and slept more peacefully than he had in years. 

The next morning over breakfast with his new friends Arya Stark arrived to join them. 

“How fares the trade?” Yoren asked with a grin. 

“We don’t have enough ships for all the Whyskey they want to buy. I would say it fares very very well.” Arya said, taking a bowl of porridge. 

“You’ll make House Stark very rich,” Vis pointed out. 

“I suppose, but that’s not why I am doing this.” 

“Then why are you doing it?” he asked her. 

“To fund my trip back there. An expedition is costly. We still need to map the interior of the continent. Sansa will want me to pay for it somehow. Now I will.” 

“Your sister is Queen in the North, is she not?” Vis continued. 

“She is. You seem to know a lot about me,” Arya turned her attention to him. “I know very little about you. Where do you come from Vis. I don’t think it was originally Volantis.” 

“It was not originally Volantis. Where I come from really doesn’t matter anymore. I would rather forget who I was and where I came from. I was not...not a good person before I was taken as a slave.” 

“How? Did you kill people? Steal?” Arya asked. 

Viserys hesitated to reply. 

“It’s not going to change anything,” Arya said. “I have all types on my crew. I am willing to let the past be past as long as it actually stays there. I am merely curious about the newest member of my crew is all.” 

“I was once very arrogant and was cruel to my sister and as a result her husband tried to kill me. I escaped his attempt at murder and resorted to theft. Then I was taken as a slave and was still unable to let go of my arrogance until…” he trailed off and absently traced the nail scar on one hand. “Until my master nearly killed me and then I realized that my arrogance would result in my death if I didn’t learn to let it go. As you said, that is all in the past now.” 

“How does it work with slaves?” Yoren asked with curiosity. “Do they let you have wives or maybe spend a night with the slave girls?” 

“It depends on the master,” Vis said sadly. “Most allow it because it makes the slaves better behaved.” 

“I hate to cut this short,” Arya said, gulping down the last of her food, “But there is a play today that I want to go see. I will meet all of you at sundown back at the ship.” 

“You like theatre?” Vis asked, surprised that a woman like Arya would have an interest in such a thing. 

“I lived in Bravos long ago. I learned to like it back then. Come with me if you want? I am told that this play is a good one.” she offered. 

“I’m not going to any play,” Mikken said. 

“I have an appointment with a brothel,” Yoren added with a laugh. 

“I’ll go,” Vis agreed and he followed after her. 

The play was a story of Westeros. It was called the Targaryen Tragedy. Viserys watched as they depicted his sister being sold to Khal Drogo and hatching dragons, ruling Free Cities, flying on dragons to fight the army of the dead, and ultimately destroying Kings Landing. The whole thing was moving of its own right and more so because he felt at fault for so much of what had happened. 

Arya turned to him as the crowd broke up and began to leave. “Does it bother you, seeing your sister portrayed like that?” 

“No it…” he stopped short, realizing that she had just tricked him into betraying himself. He closed his mouth and said nothing more. His gaze remained firmly fixed on the stage, unable to face her. 

“Were you ever going to tell me that you are Viserys of House Targaryen or were you planning to keep it secret for the entire journey across the sea?” she asked him. 

He sighed, not really knowing the answer. “How long have you known?” 

“I realized it last night. Why are you here Viserys? Do you want revenge because my brother killed you sister?” 

“Revenge?” he said with emotion. “How can I have revenge for something that I caused?

“You caused? How do you figure that? You weren’t even there?” 

“No, but I was Dany’s only family for her entire childhood and you know what I spent those years teaching her? That the iron throne was rightfully mine and that she was of no value to me unless she could help me get it. She embraced that belief in her heart because I put it there!” 

Arya fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “If it’s not revenge then…?” 

Viserys sighed, deflated. “I will remove my things from your ship before you set sail. I’ll find a room here in the city.” he said, assuming that this was the end of their arrangement. 

“Why? You might be useful on my crew. Maybe not as a sailor but I imagine you’re educated. How many languages do you speak?” 

“Four,” Vis admitted, wondering where she was going with that idea. 

“The people on the new continent speak languages that we have never heard. Sounds like you are better with learning new languages than I am. And I’m sure you could help with maps. You’re free to join us if you want to. I don’t care what house you’re from as long as the work gets done,” she offered. 

Viserys was stunned but he overcame his shock enough to make a reply. “I can get the work done.” 

Arya met his gaze for a moment. “I know you can,”


	3. Chapter 3

The first day back aboard her ship _Tomorrow_ Arya was a little surprised by how much work Viserys Targaryen got accomplished. She had known, based on her ability to perceive the truth, that he was accustomed to doing actual work but to what degree she had been unsure. It seemed though that Vis had as much energy as Mikken and Yoren if not as much skill. He was quick to learn though and followed First Mate Yoren’s instructions to the letter 

At midday the ship’s cook rang the meal bell and the crew gathered below decks to eat. Most new sailors had rope burns by the first day and complained about the pain in their hands. Arya took a seat across from Vis. Her eyes fell to his hands to see how he had fared and though there were some burns she saw that there were scars, a puncture scar through his hands. 

“You’re wondering what happened to cause these scars?” he said, seeing her gaze. 

“I thought I would find rope burns, not that.” She gave as explanation. 

“They aren’t the only scars, but we all have scars, don’t we?” he asked, looking to Mikken who bore a visible scar on his neck, effectively changing the subject to be about someone else. 

“Aye, we do,” Mikken agreed, and went on to tell the story how he had once fought in the battle against the dead and been scarred by a White Walker spear. 

Arya had heard the story many times before and had noted that it changed a little every time Mikken told it. She wasn’t sure how much of it was true aside from the fact that he had been injured during the battle with the dead, Vis listened to the story along with everyone else but was not as entertained by it as the rest of the crew. There was a hint of sadness in his purple eyes. He laughed when the others laughed but the laugh was hollow to some degree, empty. 

Viserys caught her gazing at him for the second time during the meal. Arya quickly averted her gaze and asked Yoren to her left a question. “Those clouds we saw earlier, will they mean bad weather?” 

She didn’t really even listen to his reply. At the moment she was trying to come to terms with the fact that she was fascinated with Viserys Targaryen. She didn’t know why, well she did know why, he was one of the most handsome men she had ever met, but it was unlike her to be drawn to people because of how they looked. There was something else about him holding her attention and distracting her from all her work all morning long. She just couldn’t pinpoint what it was and she wasn’t even sure why she should care. Arya wanted to just ignore him and continue with her duties for the day. That would be best, to just ignore him. Except she didn’t want to ignore him and Arya had always been willing to try and get what she wanted. 

The table cleared after the meal and everyone went back to their duties. The afternoon sun grew hot and many of the men began to remove their tunics while they went about their work. It was something that happened fairly often on board the ship as a means of keeping cool. There were three women on the crew including Arya and even they would strip down to fewer layers and a loose flowing skirt with bare feet and a tunic without sleeves. Viserys did not remove his shirt, not even after Mikken teased him about being too highborn to dare try it or perhaps simply too lean. Vis laughed and joked that it was better to be too lean than too plump. An hour later, drenched in sweat he had given in and removed his tunic. There were numerous scars on his skin. Lines from whip marks and burn marks as well. Even so, he was more muscular and physically fit than any prince had a right to be. All those years of work had changed him. 

“What are those?” the ship’s boy Micah had stopped at Viserys side to ask him. “What are those scars from?” 

“From slavery,” Vis said and gave no other explanation. 

At the end of the work day Rag, a man so nicknamed for his rag mop of hair which he refused to have cut, brought a lute up on deck and began to play and sing. Arya gave permission for their one of their two remaining barrels of whyskey to be opened and the crew had a party of sorts. As the hour grew later and many of the crew had fallen asleep on deck, Rag set the lute aside and took to drinking. Viserys picked up the discarded lute, sat down on the deck and began to play a slow sad tune. He sang _The Ballad of the Dragon Queen_ unlike any of them had ever heard it since it became popular in recent years. The words were the same but the tune was changed from a mocking alehouse tune into a mournful love ballad tune. Arya didn’t know why she felt her eyes well up with tears. She got up and went to the edge of the deck to face the sea and shed her tears unseen. Viserys finished his song, put aside the lute, and went below deck to his bunk. Arya wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep that night. In fact she was almost sure she wouldn’t be sleeping much at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part about Viserys singing was meant to mirror the story of when Rhaegar's song made Lyanna cry.


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep wasn’t coming easily to Viserys either that night. His bunk was more of a hammock and though he could sleep in varying levels of comfort now, it wasn’t the hammock keeping him awake. He was kept awake by the worry that he had made a mistake in joining Arya’s crew. The decision had been a purely impulsive one made because he wanted to be nearer to a woman he had just met. The more he came to know Arya Stark the more convinced he was that he probably wasn’t worthy of her. He supposed that in some superficial way, she was his equal. Arya was the sister of a Queen just as he was the brother of a Queen. Starks were all kings long ago before the Targaryen conquest. In that sense, they were of equal birth. In every other sense though… 

Mikken had told him earlier that day that Arya had spent her childhood playing with stable boys in Winterfell and muddying her clothes in kingslanding and traveling with common boys to hide from the Lannisters after her father was killed. She had trained with the Faceless men and fought in battles. Mostly though, what Viserys got out of the stories was that Arya didn’t care much about class or nobility. She treated everyone the same. It had taken Viserys more than half his life to learn the value of equality and it was something Arya had understood from childhood. She was a hero and he had always been a villain. How could he be worthy of that? 

Sleep eventually did come to him. The next day found Vis hard at work scrubbing the decks with seawater along with three other crewmen. 

“I need to speak to you, Vis,” Arya was at his side from out of nowhere. He hadn’t even seen her coming. “Come to the main cabin. Rag will finish this.” With that she walked away. 

Viserys got to his feet and followed after her. He was almost sure that this was it. This was the moment that she would tell him his work was of poor quality and he was going to be left behind at the next port. Arya went into the cabin ahead of him and sat down at the small table. She nodded to the chair across from her and he took the seat as indicated. 

“What can I do for you?” he almost added, Lady Stark but left it off at the last moment. 

“I wanted you to look at this book I picked up on the new continent,” she said, placing a small volume in front of him. “We landed at a city and were able to make a few trades for supplies and barrels of whyskey but it took many hours of drawing pictures and making gestures to make ourselves understood. The people insisted that we take this book with us. I assume it must be either religious or historical and contains information they wanted us to understand but, I don’t understand any of it. You should look at it.” 

Viserys tried not to let his relief show on his face. He opened the book before him, determined to do the best he could to make sense of what he found there. “I’ve never seen letters like this,” he said on looking over the first pages. 

“None of us have,” Arya agreed. “There are drawings on a few of the pages, if it helps.” 

He flipped forward to find the drawings. “There are words beneath all the drawings,” he said, hopeful that this would be a helpful clue. “These two both seem depict battles and they share this same pattern of letters. Maybe this is their word for battle?” 

Arya smiled a little. “I hadn’t noticed that. I honestly hadn’t looked too closely. I was never good with languages.” 

“Well, I am no expert and it could take weeks to make sense of this and without one of their people to learn the sounds and ask questions it might not be possible at all.” 

“I need you to work on it all the same. The ability to communicate with these people could save our lives if something goes wrong. I have paper and ink you can use for making notes and I have dictionaries in three known languages if that will assist you at all. Can you do that? Can you spend the next few weeks pouring over books?” 

“I will do my best but I am no linguist. You might make better use of me mopping decks,” he joked. 

Arya shook her head. “No, I don’t think I will.” She got up as if to leave the cabin. 

“Where are you going?” Vis called after her. 

“I have some decks to mop,” she smiled. “I’ll come check on your progress after the noon meal.” 

Viserys was late to the noon meal. He hadn’t expected to find the work so interesting. He was a little worried on arrival to the meal that the crew would resent his being pulled from the manual labor to spend his time studying books. He found that they bore no such resentment. The meal was cheerful and lighthearted as the ship’s boy Hyle told them stories about his very stupid and very adventurous uncle. 

Arya arrived in the cabin well past sunset and after all the men had gone to bed to find Vis still working. 

“Sorry, I never checked in earlier,” she said, sinking down into her chair with exhaustion. “I got busy. How is it going? Have you made sense of any of it?” 

“Well they seem to have an alphabet of twenty two letters and there are several letter combinations that I find paired together rather frequently so I assume they must be some sort of phonetic blend. I still don’t know what any of it means though.” 

“That’s more progress than I would have made,” Arya said. 

“No, you could have done this. Any educated Westerosi could have gotten this far. I am not sure if you have delegated this task to me because you hate it so much or if you are just trying to make me feel useful in giving me this work,” Vis said honestly. 

“I do hate it,” Arya admitted with a sigh. “But how would I know whether you feel useful or not? Is that something you are plagued with, lack of usefulness?” she asked and her tone was not one of mockery but of genuine interest. 

“I suppose it is,” He admitted. “It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not because I still hold out any hope for power in Westeros. That part of my life is done with. The chapter is closed. However back when all I wanted was to be king, at least I knew what I wanted.” 

“When you escaped slavery in Volantis you came to Bravos. What did you hope to do there?” she asked him, curious. “You must have wanted something.” 

“I have a bag of coins that I collected over the years each time my master rewarded me for good work. I had planned to take those coins and buy a townhouse and perhaps find some common woman to live in it with me.” 

Arya looked utterly confused at his answer. “So what in seven hells made you decide to join my crew?” 

“It’s as I told you, beauty.” 

“You actually meant that?” Arya said, her face slightly flushed. 

“I did but if I have overstepped in repeating it, I’ll take my leave now,” Vis closed up the books on the desk and stacked up the papers in preparation to go. 

Arya didn’t stop him from leaving. She looked as if she wanted to but she instead watched him with awe as he left her cabin and went back below decks to his hammock.


	5. Chapter 5

Besides Arya herself, there were two other women on board the ship. Arya needed to speak to one of them. Deidre was a woman of sixty years of age, grandmother to Hyle the ship’s boy. She wouldn’t have what Arya needed. Tayla though was a girl of seventeen, born and raised in the Iron Islands and had spent as much of her life on a ship as she had on land. Tayla would be able to help. She waited until late the next morning when she caught the girl alone below decks. 

“Tayla, have you got any moon tea?” Arya asked without preamble. 

Tayla spun to face her, eyebrows raised. “I have some,” she said, refraining from asking Arya personal questions. “How much do you need?” 

“I don’t. Not yet. I just needed to make sure you had it, before…” Arya said, not sure how much information she wanted to share. 

“Before Vis stays a night in your cabin?” Tayla prompted. 

“I never said it was him.” 

Tayla gave her a look. “It’s obviously not anyone else. We have all seen the way he looks at you...and the way you look at him too.” 

“I don’t…” Arya tried to deny it. “He does?” 

“Yoren said it was like watching Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar all over again. He saw them at the tourney you know, and when Lyanna got those winter roses, the way they looked at each other, well the two of you look the same.” 

“I doubt that. I am not my Aunt Lyanna and he is not his brother Rhaegar. We’re different people,” Arya was slightly insulted. 

“I meant no offence. If you want the moon tea later just come find me. I have plenty. This is a ship full of men after all.” 

Arya returned to her cabin where Viserys was still working. He looked bored. “If you prefer to break up the time by helping the men on deck, you could do that,” she offered. 

“I think I will,” he said and he left her to herself. 

It wasn’t until late evening when Arya found herself alone in the cabin with Viserys again. She had just returned from a meeting with Yoren and carried with her two mugs of ale. She pushed the door shut behind her and plunked one of the mugs down on the table in front of Viserys. 

“Drink,” she said, and she took a large gulp from her own mug. 

Vis made a face at the substance in the cup. He probably didn’t like ale but he picked it up and drank it all the same. 

“What’s going on?” he asked as he set the mug down. 

“The crew has been talking. Lots of gossip going around,” Arya took another gulp of ale. “They seem to think there is something between us, you and I. They are saying it’s like Rhaegar and Lyanna all over again.” 

“Is it?” Vis asked and Arya could see that he looked worried. 

Arya sank into her chair with a sigh. “I’m not my Aunt Lyanna.” 

“Nor am I my brother Rhaegar,” Vis agreed. 

“But you yourself said you joined this crew for…” she couldn’t bring herself to call herself beautiful. 

“I did. And if I had won a tourney I would gladly crown you queen of love and beauty. I haven’t won any tourneys though. I haven’t done much of anything except to make my sister’s life miserable and be a despicable person. There is no reason for the comparison to be made.” 

“Viserys, you are not your past,” Arya told him. 

“Even if that’s true, I still don’t know what I am.” 

“I do. There is good in you. I can see it. Mikken and Yoren can see it too.” 

“They said that?” he asked, moved. 

She nodded. “They did. They said you were dedicated to your work and that you spoke to Hyle and Rag with the same kindness and respect that you spoke to them. Whatever you were before, that person is gone. We can all see it and we admire you for it.” 

Arya hadn’t expected her words to make him cry. Clearly Vis hadn’t expected it either because he very quickly closed his books, stacked up his papers, and got up to flee the cabin before she could notice how moved her words had made him. 

Arya got to her feet as well and moved in front of the doorway, preventing his exit. “You don’t have to go,” she told him. 

“I really should though…” he told her. 

Arya reached up and touched his cheek. There were no tears on his face but his eyes were growing watery by the moment. “Don’t go,” she said in a whisper and she closed the distance between them and kissed him.


	6. Chapter 6

Viserys woke the next morning in Arya’s bed and found she was already awake on her side facing him, her hand resting lightly on one of the lines on his chest. 

“What happened to you Vis?” she asked, her fingers lightly brushing across the scar. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, Arya had a few scars of her own. 

“I asked you first.” 

“These were all given to me by my master. These are whips marks. Here are burns from a hot iron rod,” he showed her three burn scars. “All attempts at making me more obedient.” 

“And these?” she took one of his hands and touched the puncture mark. 

“I was taken out to be crucified for my rebellion,” he told her. 

“How did you survive?” she asked, confused. 

“Crucifixion is meant to be a slow death. It can take days. Many painful days until one either dies of thirst or exposure to the elements.” he explained. “I made many promises, enough to convince my master to take me down.” 

“How long were you out there before he did?” 

“Almost two days,” Vis admitted, hating himself and hating the memory. 

Arya grew angry at what he told her. “What was your Master’s name?” 

“Zhula Hidargo.” 

“Zhula Hidargo of Volantis…” she said, thinking something over. “I could kill him for you.” 

“And if you fail he could as easily take you as a slave,” he told her. 

“I won’t fail,” Arya insisted. 

“I don’t need you to kill him for me. That’s not what I need from you,” He said quite honestly. 

“Then what do you need from me?” she asked with half a smile. 

“Another night like the last one,” he said, moving close enough to kiss her again. 

A knock sounded at the door breaking them apart. “Forgive me my lady,” Yoren’s voice called out from behind the door. “A storm is on the horizon.” 

“I’ll be right there,” Arya called back. She threw on her clothes as quickly as Viserys did and headed for the door. 

“He’s probably right outside the door,” Vis reminded her quietly. “Are you sure you want to deal with all the gossip if he sees me here?” 

Arya rolled her eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you.” And then as if to prove it, she wrenched the door open and immediately turned back to kiss Viserys with the door wide open for Yoren to see. 

Yoren looked amused when Arya pulled away and turned to follow her first mate out to the decks. He began barking out orders to lower the sails and to secure all the cargo. Arya set to work with the preparations along with everyone else. 

The storm came with a vengeance and lasted all day, into the night, and well into the following day. A piece of the mast broke off the ship and was caught by the wind. It knocked Viserys off his feet as it fell and the splintered wood tore into his flesh. He got back up again and continued to help the others bail water from the ship. By the time it finally ended the entire crew was exhausted. 

“The ship is pretty badly damaged,” Yoren stated, looking over the decks while a gentle rain continued to fall. “We can’t go around Dorne and all the way west like this.” 

“We’ll need to stop a White Harbor?” Arya asked. It was where the ship had been built and the logical place to go for repairs. 

“We will. You might as well have a visit home while the repairs are made. Your sister will be glad to see you,” Yoren suggested. 

Arya nodded her agreement reluctantly. “Alright. Home it is.” 

Yoren then barked orders for the rest of the crew to go to their bunks and get some rest. Everyone began wandering off to their bunks. 

“Not you,” Arya said to Vis before he could leave. “You need help. Come with me.” 

Viserys followed her back to her cabin. 

“Sit,” she told him and nodded towards a chair. She reached for a box on a shelf with bandages and thread for stitches given to her by the master before she left. “That tunic needs to come off.” 

Viserys watched her as she carefully washed the gash across his chest and removed the splinters one by one. It was a long process and she imagined it must be a painful one but Viserys did not flinch at the pain. He had known far worse. 

“I think that’s all of it,” Arya said, nearly an hour later. 

“Good,” he said.

Arya could see that he was unsure of what to do next. He was badly injured and exhausted and probably did not look forward to a night in a hammock in this state. She hadn’t planned on inviting him back to her bed quite this soon. She had known that she would want him to come back eventually. She liked him too much not to but the very next night was too soon. 

“You should stay,” Arya found herself staying. “You can’t sleep in a hammock in your condition.”

“In truth, I could,” he argued. “I wouldn’t like it, but I could do it.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t like you to leave,” she told him, irritated. 

“In that case…” he reached down to pull off his wet boots and let out an involuntary cry of pain at the movement. 

“Let me get those,” Arya said. She helped him remove his boots and soon she was helping him remove his breeches too and they were both in her bed unclothed and sharing kisses. 

Then Arya placed her hand in just the wrong place on his chest and felt him stiffen with pain. She pulled away. “Maybe you had best just sleep tonight.” 

“Maybe I should, if that’s alright?” 

Arya sat up on her elbow a little. “You do have a choice you know? Just because I am Captain of this ship doesn’t mean….” she trailed off a little worried. 

“I know. I just hate to disappoint you.” 

“I’m not. It’s nice just to not sleep alone. I’m not disappointed.” 

Viserys let out a sigh of relief and he pulled her a little closer to hug. Exhaustion soon brought sleep to him long before it came to Arya.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they reached White Harbor several weeks later, Viserys had no doubt that he was hopelessly in love with Arya Stark. He hadn’t told her yet. In spite of the fact that he never slept in his bunk anymore and that she always smiled when he sat down with her in the galley for meals and that she still watched him when she thought he wasn’t looking, he still wasn’t sure how she would react to the word love. 

They unloaded the ship at White Harbor. The builders needed it empty to make their repairs. Once the loading was done, most of the crew headed off to take rooms in the city. They would not be going to Winterfell. They would wait here for Arya to return. 

“You’re coming with me of course,” Arya said, seeing the look on his face when Yoren said his farewell and left them alone. 

“I am? What will your sister say?” Vis asked. From what little he had heard of Sansa, she would not appreciate the relationship he had formed with Arya nor would she want a Targaryen in Winterfell. 

“Good point. Sansa wouldn’t like it unless we were married.” 

“We could marry then,” Viserys said half on impulse and half in earnest. 

“Don’t make jokes,” Arya said. 

“It’s not a joke. Why would I joke about marrying the person I love?” 

Arya said nothing to that. She just stood there gazing at him in awe or shock, he couldn’t be sure which. 

“Is that really so bad?” he continued sadly, worried that he had just destroyed everything. 

“I do love you...I really do...but I can’t be someone’s lady wife…” she said, torn with emotion. 

“Who says you have to be?” he asked her. “I wouldn’t want you to be any different than you are. Getting married doesn’t mean you have to settle for children and a castle. It only means that I go where you go. That you are mine and I am yours.” 

“I’ll not be an obedient wife,” she reminded him. 

“I couldn’t imagine you being obedient to anyone, least of all me.” 

Arya spun on her heel back towards the street. “Yoren?” She called after the man in the distance. “Come and witness our wedding?” 

The man came back to them wearing a huge smile on his face. “I wondered how long it would take. There’s a godswood not so far from here. I’ll take you there.” 

*** 

Winterfell loomed in the distance and Arya pulled her horse to a stop, anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Viserys pulled up alongside her and tried to read her expression as he so often did. 

“We don’t have to go. It’s not too late to go back to White Harbor,” he told her. 

“It is too late. Sansa has likely heard that I am back in Westeros by now. She’ll be hurt if I don’t come and see her,” Arya said but did not push her horse forward. 

“I thought you loved Winterfell. What’s keeping you from going back there now? If you need me to change my name, we can do that,” he offered. 

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Arya said worriedly. “I spent years pretending I wasn’t a Stark. It takes a toll on a person. I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” he reminded her. “Besides, they said in Wintertown that Sansa is holding a tourney right now. If we tell her that I am just some slave you met in your travels she might be too busy to question it.” 

“Unless someone told her you were on my ship,” Arya pointed out. 

“Then we’ll have to hope that information hasn’t reached her yet.” 

“I think we should just tell her the truth. She’ll probably be angry because she never liked your sister but you’re not Dany. Sansa will have to get over it.”

 

Arya pushed her horse forward and Viserys travelled next to her. The gates of Winterfell were opened when they arrived and Arya saw banners from many houses all over the courtyard. Northern houses made up most of the mix and there were some banners from the six kingdoms as well. Her gaze stopped on the stag banner of House Baratheon. 

“What?” Vis asked, seeing her go pale. 

“Nothing, I just think this might turn out to be an awkward visit.” Arya said with a sigh. “It might get very tense.” 

“Arya!” Someone called from across the yard and she turned to see Sansa in the balcony call out to greet her. Arya dismounted her horse and ran up the stairs to greet her sister.


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa’s hug of greeting was brief. She let Arya go and then looked down into the courtyard at the blond haired man on horseback. “Arya, is that who they are saying it is?” 

“Who are they saying he is?” Arya replied evasively. 

“Viserys Targaryen.” she glanced down at him as if she were both frightened and angry. 

“He’s not a bad person, Sansa. There’s no need to hate him before you’ve even met him.” 

“I don’t hate anyone,” Sansa argued. “But he is a Targaryen. Is he...sane?” 

“Of course he is. And he has no armies or dragons or wealth at all. There is nothing for you to fear from him. Come down and meet him?” 

“I think I’d rather not,” Sansa said. 

Arya shook her head. “If it were the other way around, I would go meet your husband, and I already know I won’t like him, whoever he turns out to be.” 

“You married him?” Sansa said, horrified. “Arya, how could you?” 

Arya took a step back, hurt by her sister’s reaction. “We’ll only stay the night to eat and rest our horses and then we’ll head back to White Harbor.” 

“Arya wait,” Sansa called after her. 

Arya continued down the stairs into the yard. Sansa followed her, guards trailing behind her. Viserys saw them coming and dismounted his horse. Sansa reached them while Arya kept her back to her sister and fussed with her horse’s stirrups and saddlebags as she prepared to possibly leave again. Viserys bent down to one knee when Sansa reached him. 

“Your Grace,” he said, respectfully. 

“Arya, where are you going?” Sansa said, not even acknowledging Viserys at all. 

Arya spun to face them. “Don’t do that Vis. Don’t bow to her. She’s not even the rightful Queen anyway. She should be bowing to you!” Those words were spoken in a fit of anger but once spoken could not be taken back. 

Viserys didn’t move. He stayed where he was, one knee bowed to the Queen in the North. He was not so stupid as to try to defy the queen in the North in her own home. 

“Not the rightful queen?” Sansa asked Arya. “Would you like to explain that, Arya?” 

“Arya, you’d best not speak while you are so angry,” Vis told her gently. 

Arya glared at him. “I don’t have to obey you. I told you I never would and I’m not going to start today!” 

“I didn’t command you, I gave you advice,” Vis argued. “Take it or don’t.” 

“Fine. We’ll talk about it later Sansa, when everyone is calmer. Right now, I am going for a ride.” Arya got on her horse and rode out the gates. 

Sansa turned to Viserys, still bent to one knee on the ground. “Is there any truth to what my sister says? You would prefer I bowed to you?” 

“No your Grace. I don’t want any crowns anymore. You are the queen and I am more than willing to bow to you.” 

Sansa thought over his words a moment before nodding. “Rise Viserys of House Targaryen. We’ll see to your horses and find you lodging until my sister returns.” 

Arya returned an hour later to the solar where Viserys had been left alone. “I spoke to Sansa just now. I think she has forgiven me for my outburst. I’m sorry. I unwittingly put you in danger. I hope you’ll forgive me too.” 

“Of course. Always,” he said, stepping close enough to hug her. “I love you. I think I would go mad if that had ended badly. If anything had happened to you…” 

“Sansa wasn’t going to execute me. That was never a danger,” Arya said with a sigh. “She knows that sometimes I speak before I think and she loves me anyway, just like you do.” 

“I hope you’re right.” 

“Would you really go mad?” She asked, pulling away from him to look into his eyes. “That was just a figure of speech, wasn’t it?” 

“Of course it was,” Vis said, but he didn’t sound confident of it being the truth. He didn’t sound confident at all.


	9. Chapter 9

The following morning Viserys woke in Arya’s bed in Winterfell and found that she wasn’t there. He disliked waking without her in ordinary circumstances but here in Winterfell where he was an unwanted guest he liked it even less. He got dressed and waited a while to see if she would return. An hour passed, then two and still she did not come back to her room. Not knowing what else to do, Viserys left their room and wandered out towards the great hall. He didn’t find her there so he checked the yard. Eventually he found her out on the grounds standing with a group of people watching the tourney in the standing room near the seats. She broke away from the crowd just as he began approaching and a man followed her from the crowd, a man in Baratheon colors. 

“Arya wait?” the Baratheon called after her. 

“You’re being stupid Gendry,” she called back. “We’re not talking about this!” 

“Just be reasonable. All I’m asking for is an explanation,” he said. 

“There is nothing to explain!” She retorted and then she caught sight of Viserys and headed in his direction. The stupid Baratheon followed her. 

“What’s going on here?” Viserys asked her. 

“It’s nothing. It’s just a stupid argument.” Arya said just as Gendry caught up to her. 

“So this is him?” Gendry asked, looking Viserys up and down. 

Arya spun to face him. “You should go Gendry,” she said more gently than before. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” 

“Another lie…” Gendry muttered and with a huff he turned and walked away. 

“What was that all about?” Viserys asked her. 

“He accused me of lying to him about something that happened years ago,” she said. 

“Are you going to continue to give vague answers or are you going to tell me what happened?” Viserys asked plainly. He wasn’t angry, he was just trying to get to the point. 

Arya let out a sigh. “A long time ago Gendry asked me to marry him and I refused. It was just after Dany named him lord of Storm’s End. I told him I couldn’t be a lady of a castle. Just now he found out I was married and accused me of lying to him, of refusing him because he was lowborn. I don’t think he meant it, or he’ll come to regret his words later. It was nothing, really.” 

“He was your lover?” Viserys asked her, dimly aware of the fact that he hated the idea of her being with anyone else. 

“Once,” she said, warily. 

Viserys took a step in the direction that Gendry had gone and Arya immediately stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest. “Don’t you dare, Vis.” she said firmly. 

“Don’t do what?” he asked, bordering on angry. 

“Whatever you’re planning to do. Argue with him, fight him. It’s not necessary.” 

“Of course it’s necessary. He still cares for you. If he didn’t care, who you had married wouldn’t matter.” 

“No Vis. Gendry is lowborn. You were born a prince. He thinks I rejected him because of his birth and is angry about that, nothing more. There’s no need to go and make a big scene.” 

“Is he entered in the tournament?” Vis asked her, still angry. 

“Yes. Why?” Arya took a step back, regarding him with confusion. 

“Then I will defeat him there.” 

“What? You’re entering the tourney? Vis, most of these people spent their entire childhoods learning to fight in tourneys. You didn’t.” She pointed out. 

“Neither did he. I only have to beat him. No one else.” 

“You might not even get the chance to fight him. Who knows how they’ll make the lists?” Arya reminded him. 

“I’ll find out who makes the lists and make sure it happens,” Vis argued. 

“Vis, there really is no need-” she began. 

“There is every need!” He shouted at her. 

Arya took another step back from him, putting even more distance between them. “Don’t shout at me. Don’t ever shout at me.” And she turned and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

Not an hour passed before Viserys sought out Arya to apologize to her. Arya was in Sansa’s solar and the guards allowed him to pass into the room. 

“Your Grace,” he addressed the queen first. “Might I speak to Arya?” 

“Of course. There is a matter I need to attend to in the small hall. I will be back momentarily.” Sansa got up and left the room. 

Viserys approached the table where Arya stood and placed a single blue rose in front of her. “I am sorry for shouting at you. It won’t happen again.” 

“Good.” she said, picking up the blue rose which had once been a favorite flower of her Aunt Lyanna. “What about the tourney?” 

“I’ve already entered it.” 

“Then I guess I’ll tell Sansa we’re staying a while longer,” Arya said, resigning herself to stand by and see this madness through to the end. 

“Is that a problem? I mean you are getting along well with your sister now?” 

“As well as we ever did, yes.” Arya replied. “It doesn’t matter. Sansa is my sister and Winterfell is my home. I don’t mind staying longer. I like it here.” 

“They don’t like me here, your people,” Vis said. 

“It’s only because they don’t know you,” Arya said. “Northerners aren’t very trusting. They’ll need time. Lots of time.” 

“I don’t think that’s the reason. Everywhere I go they seem afraid of me. Like they think I might call dragons down on them at any moment. I would never hurt these people. All those years spent as a slave showed me that I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

“Except for Gendry Baratheon,” she pointed out unhelpfully. 

“Yes, except for him,” Vis agreed with half a smile. 

Arya got to her feet and went to him. “I like it when you smile. It happens so rarely….” she said as she hugged him. 

He bent and kissed her, pulling her close and did not let her go until Sansa returned to them. Sansa said nothing about finding her sister and good brother kissing. Viserys took his leave of both women and went out to practice for the tourney. 

“You really do care for him?” Sansa asked as Viserys left. 

“I really do.” 

“And he is kind to you?” Sansa asked. 

“Yes. He would never hurt me. And you needn’t worry about politics. He cares nothing for power. I promise.” 

“How can you be sure of that?” 

“He’s never mentioned Dragonstone even once,” Arya pointed out. “It seems like if he had political ambitions, his family home and lands would be the place to start.” 

“Probably,” Sansa agreed. “Unless he planned to start with a marriage alliance.” 

“It’s not like that, Sansa,” Arya said, irritated. “We should talk about something else.” 

“I don’t want to talk about something else. Not until you tell me what it’s like, being married,” Sansa said. 

“You were married,” Arya began, not sure what her sister wanted to know, and then she remembered that Sansa’s marriages had been unwanted. “But he wasn’t kind to you.” 

“He was not. So tell me what it is like when your husband is good to you.” 

“It’s…” Arya didn’t know what to say. “It’s like your songs I suppose.” Sansa would like that. 

“You suppose? So when Viserys was kissing you just now it was like a song?” She sounded skeptical. 

“It would have been a drunken bawdy song maybe, but yes.” 

“There was nothing drunken or bawdy about what I just saw, Arya. Only love. I can see that he loves you and you love him. I just wanted to know what that was like.” 

“It’s not too late for you to know for yourself what it’s like. You’re beautiful and you’re the Queen, I’m sure most men would be happy to have you,” Arya pointed out. 

“How would I ever trust them?” 

“Maybe with a long courtship?” she suggested. 

“A long courtship tells me very little of what a man will be like after the marriage,” Sansa argued. 

“Would you like me to arrange a marriage for you? I could use the skills I learned with the faceless men to find out who can be trusted to treat you kindly,” Arya jested. 

“I don’t want you to arrange a marriage but I do want you to watch the tourney closely and help me see if there are any prospects among the people here,” Sansa said. “I invited a lot of men here for this event. I can’t see a better way…” 

Arya rolled her eyes. “You staged a tourney to find a husband?” 

“What else was I supposed to do?” Sansa said, frustrated. 

Arya thought about it a moment and decided that maybe Sansa was right. Maybe a tourney wasn’t such a bad idea. “The simplest way to get to know the men in the tourney is to be in the tourney,” Arya said, already excited about the idea. 

“Arya no…” 

“I’ll need some unmarked armor and a helm,” she said getting up. “There’s so much to do! I’ll see you at dinner!”


	11. Chapter 11

Arya stood in a window watching the practice yard below. His placement in the tourney would begin in a few hours time and Vis clearly wasn’t ready. 

“He’ll be alright. It’s only a tourney,” Sansa said at her side as they watched the grounds below. 

“A tourney that he doesn’t even need to fight in,” Arya argued. 

“Maybe he does need to,” Sansa said gently. “Maybe he has to prove something to himself or to you.” 

“Not to me,” Sansa said, watching the grounds below where Vis sparred with one of the lads in the yard. 

“Have you told him that?” 

“I tried to. I tried to tell him there was no need to fight and he said there was every need.” 

“Every need...it sounds like this does go deeper than just jealousy over Gendry. Maybe this is about what happened on the trident. Maybe Viserys wants to avenge Rhaegar.” Sansa suggested. 

“Avenge? It’s a tourney, he can’t kill him,” Arya protested. “And Gendry wasn’t even there when Rhaegar was killed. It wasn’t his fault that his father staged a stupid rebellion. I don’t think Vis is stupid enough to blame Gendry for Rhaegar.” 

“Maybe not, but he may still want to prove that the last Targaryn can beat a Baratheon, especially when that Baratheon once held your affections. Besides, I think you of all people would know what it was like to avenge your family and everyone in the house of your enemy, no matter if they had been involved in the treachery or not.” 

“Rhaegar died in Battle. It’s not the same as being murdered at a wedding. Why are you even defending him, Sansa? I didn’t think you liked Vis.” 

“I’m not defending him,” Sansa said somberly. “I’m trying to tell you that in spite of how much you think Viserys has changed since his days as The Beggar King, you still married a Targaryen. You married a dragon and it looks like he’s been woken. Are you happy?” Sansa didn’t wait for Arya to reply. She turned and walked away. 

Arya watched her sister go and turned back to the window with a twinge of worry. Vis was good on horseback. He was good with crossbows and knew the basics of how to parry with a sword. When she had last known Gendry he had been no swordsman either but Sansa had made the tourney an open event. The contestants were free to fight with any weapon they chose. Vis had no chance against Gendry’s hammer. And what if Sansa was right? What if he was only doing this because something had been woken inside of him that he had long forgotten?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter update.

“You’ll never beat him like that,” a voice on the sideline of the practice yard interrupted Vis mid swing. The distraction causes him to miss the blow altogether. 

“You’ll have to duck”,” the stranger spoke a second time. Vis took a blow just then. 

Angry, he threw his sword to the ground and turned to the stranger. “Must you distract my entire practice in this manner?” 

“I am only trying to help Ser, I promise,” the older man said sincerely. 

“I’m not a Ser but I think you know that. Why would you bother helping me? No one else here has so much as told me to have a pleasant day.” 

“I am Ser Willem Darry. My brother died at the trident along with your brother.” 

“The Kingsguard Jonathor Darry?” Vis asked. 

Willem nodded. “House Darry has always been loyal to House Targaryen. I saw the lists. I saw that you’re to fight Gendry Baratheon if you won your first two rounds. I want to see you beat him.” 

“I appreciate the support but do you have some quarrel against Lord Gendry?” 

“No, it’s just that if things were different maybe I would have been serving as your Kingsguard like my brother served your brother. If things were different, a Baratheon wouldn’t have killed my brother.” 

“Things are not different though,” Vis reminded him. “I will never be king after what my sister did and it looks to me like the Starks are doing a decent job of it. If you want to see me win to avenge your brother I will do my best but perhaps you had best enter the lists yourself.” 

“I haven’t got any armor. I was master at arms at the red keep and now I have nothing.” 

Vis allowed himself half a smile. “So you’re looking for a benefactor?” 

“I am looking to serve the rightful king of the seven kingdoms. I know you don’t plan to rule and I don’t care about that. I will serve as a household guard to you and lady Arya. All that matters is that I get a chance to serve the real king. Let me borrow your armor and win your first two fights? I’ll make sure you get a chance to fight him and I’ll help you learn how to beat him.” 

“Master at arms at the Red Keep you say?” 

He nodded. “Yes. ‘‘Twas a long time ago.” 

“Let me think on it?” Vis said with a thoughtful smile. “It’s not such a bad idea


End file.
